


Skill

by rarepairsinmycup



Series: Building A Home (on hiatus) [24]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Anxiety, Communication, Developing Friendships, Female Friendship, Ficlet, Gen, Healthy Relationships, Painting, Series, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairsinmycup/pseuds/rarepairsinmycup
Summary: Momo develops a friendship in art therapy and learns some secrets on her brother.
Series: Building A Home (on hiatus) [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1048334
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Skill

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Bleach' nor am I profiting from this.

“Welcome back for another session or welcome for those who are brand new,” Ganju says, looking over the class with a grin. “I don't plan on forcing anyone into a project. Should you prefer crayon over charcoal or paints over pottery? I won't intervene. You’re here to heal and I just make a suggestion.”

Momo dodges his gaze. Kūkaku’s less frightening with her chilly demeanor and refusal to express any emotion. He’s loud and happy with exaggerated movements and eager to help people pick supplies. 

Nervous, she shoves her thumb into her mouth and begins chewing on her nail. Once she can't bite off anymore, she goes onto skin and then sucks on her hair. 

Her table partner watches, concerned. “I know you from school. Have you never been here?” 

She bites down as she turns and comes face-to-face with Rukia Kuchiki. Her heart rate jumps, unsettled even with the semi-familiar face. 

“Yeah,” she murmurs, wiping her thumb off on her pant leg. “Do we have to hang our work here? I don’t even show my work off around home because my brother can do it better.” 

“No one has to show anything here.” Rukia pushes her chair back and starts for the painting cart. “Do you prefer a brush or would you rather have something else?” 

“I’ll use whatever you do?”

Neither girl tries initiating conversation once the painting begins. Momo remains focused on her paper and smock, sure some unspoken rule forbids people from looking up. 

Ganju wanders the room, offering new brushes, paper, water, sharpeners, and pencils. A smock houses filthy paintbrushes and broken pencils on one side with everything new and fresh on the other. He’s quiet now, a stranger compared to the man from earlier. 

Momo doesn’t hear him approach her table and then, she's scrubbing black over Aizen's face, leaving him a mysterious mass. 

Ganju says nothing but sets down a fresh paintbrush, smiles and continues his rounds. 

Rukia dunks her brush in its water cup. “Ganju isn’t making any guesses on what something means. He’s probably thinking of his fireworks and whether he can make a purple and black one.” 

Momo runs her thumb over his face, again and again, a precautionary measure. 

No one bugs her when she hangs it to dry. Momo watches the blob form into shape with lumps and uneven lines. No face should mean no identity but she knows because she unintentionally painted a smaller hand trapped in his. 

Her work never comes home. Every week, she makes something new and hangs it up for drying. Her old work is donated to the recycling bin. 

Her conversation with Rukia never becomes too personal with school and other safe topics dominating the conversation. 

Except, she once arrives with a puffy face and red-rimmed eyes. Her sniffles are loud and punctuated with coughing when she gets choked up. 

“What’s wrong?” Momo searches for something she can give the girl. “I mean, do you want to share what’s wrong? Papa says it can help us feel better.”

“My b-b-brother is leaving for a trip and taking his boyfriend. I remember when m-m-my sister went away because she never came back.” 

Hugging her or putting a hand on her shoulder seems wrong. Getting a parent has the potential to make things worse, but her brother?

“I’ll be back,” she promises, dashing into the hallway and toward the waiting room. “Hey! I know the rules, Papa. No running and no big voices but this is important. I need Renji right now. Please?”  
-

Shunsui bites his tongue as the children run paintbrushes up and down his arms. 

Bumblebees, patterns, vines, and he believes pastries are taking over his skin. He’s been patient with the itchiness and tickles crawling over his skin. Over the brush strokes, he picks up whispers. 

Momo dunks her brush in purple and checks his expression. “Papa, has there ever been a time when you were separated from Juju because he was in the hospital?” 

“I prefer remaining with him, but some things are personal. We might be a partner to the other, but there are some things we don’t want the other to see when it comes to medicine. I feel queasy when he has blood taken while other things don’t bother me in the least. I drooled everywhere waking up from surgery and he wiped my mouth while laughing. Juushiro will never share this story because he’s embarrassed.” 

Rukia focuses on her vine wrapping around his wrist. “Is he okay now?” 

“Well, everyone struggles and Juushiro's no exception. Working together and recognizing a person’s triggers can help. I try to recognize his stressors and he does the same in return. Now, he hates this story but -- it solidified our relationship.” 

Already, he’s beginning to laugh. 

“I originally worked as an officer but was beginning to move into baking. I had volunteered to bake something for work with Juushiro offering to be the taster. A monstrosity came from the oven and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. He decided it would be better to devour everything and be sick.”

Shunsui pauses and tries regaining his composure only to collapse into more laughter.

“I later asked him whether he ever planned on sharing the truth and he confessed: no, he was hoping I would accept that my cookies were amazing and he couldn't stop with just one. I double-check labels now to make sure no monstrosities escape my oven.”

“There have been serious illnesses and things which forced him to remain in the hospital. I'm always going to be scared by those. I can't know the outcome. Even his doctor doesn't always know. I can take comfort in knowing that we’re always going to communicate and help one another through these bumps. Do you have anyone to help you through the scary moments, Rukia?” 

Her fingers graze Renji’s. Rukia grips her paintbrush too tight and then sets it aside to link her purple fingers through his. Momo presses a hand to her mouth, a sorry effort to conceal her grin as Renji turns red. 

“I get nervous and bite my nails,” she says quietly. “I sometimes bite them enough to bleed or be too sore for anything. Putting tape on them doesn’t work and during lunches, he colors on my hand to keep me from biting them.” 

Shunsui raises his hand to admire the work and nods. “I’m jealous he’s been keeping these skills a secret. Rukia, do you know any other secrets I should be aware of?” 

“Papa, please…” 

“Renji can do pretty braids.” 

“Ha! I knew it! Juushiro owes me some wine and steak now.” 

“Papa!”

**Author's Note:**

> I love every single bookmark, comment, and kudos. Things have slowed down because my family purchased a Nintendo Switch, and I have been taken over by the games. 
> 
> Upside? Keeps me far less stressed than anything else has.


End file.
